


On The House

by marlee813



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Gay Bar, Humor, M/M, Marcus!POV, Plot What Plot, Underage drinking from legal adult, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlee813/pseuds/marlee813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leave it to Cottia to take action against Marcus's lamenting. He blames her for being stuck outside Texas's most popular gay bar without a clue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The House

The door swings open abruptly, bathing the asphalt in harsh light as the patrons leave laughing, grabbing onto each other for balance. Marcus barely slides out of their way fast enough, his heart thumping as frantically as the beat nearly vibrating through the floor. 

This is a bad idea. Why he decides to listen to Cottia is beyond him, but obviously his constant lamenting about the state of his love life had finally pushed her into action. Which is why he is now standing outside of Texas' most well known Country bar. 

Texas' most well known gay Cowboy bar.

He sucks in a breath and leans heavily up against the wall, dipping his head low in order not to catch the eye of the constant flow of people both entering and leaving the bar. He crosses his ankles, chuckling to himself at the absurdity of his stance. All he needs is a long piece of wheat hanging from his mouth and he'd be the picture perfect cowboy.

Marcus stands against the wall for an indeterminable amount of time trying to gather the momentum enough to just walk in the door. This hook up thing is so new to him, so outside his comfort level that no matter which angle he approaches it from, he just feels like an idiot. A newborn foal trying to walk in amongst a herding, galavanting pack. 

The clicking of heels on wood planks draws his attention away from his inner musings. The sound isn't the all-too familiar sound of boots scuffing against the ground. No, these are... stilettos. Which only means one thing. 

"Cottia," Marcus greets calmly, pushing away from the wall.

"Jesus Christ, Marcus," Cottia swears, her hand raising to absentmindedly pat at her chest, "you scared the crap out of me!"

Marcus ducks his head, blushing, "sorry."

She narrows her eyes, arms crossed, "why aren't you inside?"

He could lie to her, say he had to get away from all the 'hot boys' - her words not his - swarming him, but he doesn't. He won't, she's been his saving grace since their first day of college.

"I can't," he finally settles on. 

Her gaze softens, and she steps forward, placing a tiny, perfectly manicured hand on his arm, "Marcus. This isn't some be all and end all part of your life. You need to get out, meet new people. If that means you get laid in the meantime then that's just a plus for everyone." Cottia winks, and Marcus huffs out a laugh, some of his anxiety bleeding out knowing that he's no longer under anymore ludicrous self-obligations. Just go out and meet new people, that can't be too hard. Right? He can do that.

Unfortunately his feet aren't getting the message. He stands rooted to the spot, unable to move.

"Do I have to drag you in there? Or worse, do I have to go in and supervise you?" Cottia warns with a shit eating grin, hand grasping tighter at Marcus's arm. He shakes his head no and represses a shudder. He can do this all by himself, thanks. 

"Just have fun." Cottia emphasizes her words with small shoves and Marcus hesitantly makes his way to the door, the light spilling out from underneath it.

He turns to look at her one last time, hand on the door handle, and she blows him a kiss before turning to walk away, leaving him alone.

It feels like permeating an impenetrable barrier, the noise and heat and smoke fills Marcus's throat, making him cough and his eyes start to water. He catches the eye of the sorry excuse for the bouncer; he's slumped up against the wall, back nearly completely turned to the door. He seems to be more preoccupied watching folks line dancing across the floor then making sure of Marcus's age. The guy just tips his hat and nods in the general direction if the bar. Marcus releases the death grip on his ID and, with a shaky exhale, begins to wind himself through the throngs on people, his cowboy boots clunking loudly against the hardwood.

Marcus gets to the bar just in time for one of the patrons to be pulled out onto the dance floor, leaving his seat empty. Marcus takes that as a good sign and hops onto the stool, signalling the bartender with a halfassed wave. The guy, well, there's no other word for it, he prowls towards Marcus, and for the shortest of seconds, Marcus is convinced he did something wrong, some bartender rule he broke in his innocence. Unfortunately, for Marcus, the bartender is easily what Cottia would describe as a 'bear', tall, large, flannel button down pulled taut against wide shoulders, chest hair peeking out from where a few of the buttons have popped. He slams his hands down on the bar top and leans forward and Marcus recoils, apologies already littered on his tongue. But the guy just laughs, his whole body shaking with the momentum.

"Howdy," the bear says with a wink, "haven't seen ya 'round these parts."

Marcus swallows, tries to get his heart beat back to normal. "N-no, first time here." He speaks to the table top but the bartender hears him anyways.

"'Plains why you're so skittish then. Say, what's your name, fresh meat?"

The unexpected nick name startles a laugh out of Marcus, and he finally looks up to the mans twinkling eyes. He extends a hand, "Marcus."

"Marcus," the man rolls off his tongue, reaching out to grasp Marcus's hand in his own paw. He tugs, nearly pulling Marcus up off the stool, "the names Steve. You best be careful out there ya hear, these men are just gon' wanna eat you up."

"Thanks for the advice," Marcus responds sincerely, eyes huge and Steve laughs again.

"So, what'll it be, darlin'? First ones on the house."

"Rittenhouse on the rocks."

Steve raises an appreciative eyebrow as he pours, than slides the amber liquid across the table.

"Man after my own heart," Steve exclaims loudly, hand pressed to his chest, "knows his whiskey and is damn fine lookin'. Tell me you're into bears."

Marcus chokes, mid sip, the smoothness hardly smooth anymore as it comes back up. He feels his eyes tear, and presses his elbow hard into the bar top, trying to cough inconspicuously into his hand. He hears snickering beside him, but he's too embarrassed to do anything but try to side eye the guy while hiding his flush beneath his hand. Steve looks guilty, and by the subtle smirk, nearly hidden by his beard Marcus realizes that Steve did that just to get a reaction out of him. 

"Steve," Marcus starts slowly, unsure how to broach this particular awkward conversation. But Steve placates him, hands raised in the universal gesture of surrender.

"I'm sorry," Steve gets out before he loses it, pointing at Marcus's face between bouts of laughter, "I couldn't help it, darlin', your face, you're just too damn innocent. I couldn't resist."

Marcus huffs, but his mouth curls up into a smile despite his embarrassment. 

"No hard feelings?" Steve asks, sliding a fresh drink across the table and whisking away the one that Marcus practically spit up into. 

"'Course not. I'm sorry if I, uh, gave you the wrong impression earlier." Marcus cringes, waiting.

"Nonsense," Steve continues, "I can spot a bear lover a mile away. I had you pegged for a twink man the moment I laid my eyes on ya, kid." Steve reaches a hand out to shake the shoulder of the man sitting to the left of Marcus, the snickering man, "like Esca here. Every twink lovers dream."

Esca's shoulders tighten and Marcus quickly scans the room for a decent escape route. If the way Esca's eyes narrow is any indication of how this is about to go down, Marcus would put twenty bucks on the smaller, lithe man coming out victorious in this particular altercation.

But Esca just pulls in a breath and shakes off Steve's hand, "we've talked about this before, Steve. You don't call me a twink and I don't go around telling everyone about that time I had to go save your ass because one of your crazies left you tied to the bed."

Steve's eyes widen, and for the first time that evening, Marcus watches as a slow flush crawls up Steve's neck. He can't help the chuckle that escapes.

Esca slowly moves to look at Marcus at the sound of his laughter and Marcus's breath catches in his throat. The way Esca's lips twist into a coy smile has heat coiling low in Marcus's belly. He takes a large swallow of his drink in order to belay his nerves, ignoring the burn in his throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Marcus," Esca speaks, though Marcus isn't really paying attention, too busy focusing on the way his name sounds on Esca's lips, "you weren't unfortunate enough to hear that were you?"

"I might've been," Marcus teases, surprised at himself for not stuttering.

"What a shame, must've been using my outdoor voice," Esca turns to Steve, "whoops."

"He's a feisty one, Marcus, you've got your hands full." Steve shoots both of them a wink before he heads off in the opposite direction. It's an obvious ploy and Marcus both curses and thanks Steve at the same time.

"Feisty, huh?" Marcus asks, using some of his new found confidence. He swivels a bit in his chair, angling his body closer to Esca.

Esca just chuckles, bringing the beer to his lips for a slow pull. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Yes, yes Marcus would like to know. "I'd love to," Marcus admits, ducking his head down to watch the ice slowly melt into his glass as he feels his face heat. 

Cool fingertips graze his cheek, and Marcus can't help but look up, catching Esca watching him with hooded blue eyes.

"You're cute," Esca admonishes.

"And you're... young," Marcus realizes with sudden clarity, feeling his stomach drop as he remembers the lackadaisical bouncer, "you are legal, right?" Oh god Cottia would never let him hear the end of it, first time out and he manages to snag the one who's still in high school.

"Legal to drink?" Esca asks, fingering the label on his bottle, "no, Bob doesn't give a shit about checking my ID. But legal to fuck? Absolutely." Esca grins, and Marcus feels his jeans pull painfully tight at the thought.

"Good - Good to know," Marcus stutters.

Esca leans forward, places a warm palm against Marcus's jeans, "so was Steve right?" 

"Right about what?" 

Esca doesn't stop his ministrations, slowly moving his hand further and further up Marcus's leg. He feels like he's gonna pass out with all the blood rushing straight to his cock.

"Right about you being a twink man." Esca ghosts his fingers over the bulge straining against Marcus's denim and Marcus can't breathe, can't think with Esca all over him like this.

Marcus breaks away, turning his chair so that his back is to the bar, legs spread to get some decent friction on his neglected dick. He turns his head to the right. "Maybe," Marcus answers noncomittally and Esca's smile turns predatory. Before Marcus can even blink Esca is up off the chair, crowding into the vee of Marcus's legs, hands planted against the firm muscles of Marcus's thighs. Marcus arches up into the touch, his body reacting without his conscious permission.

"I say we try to find out just how much of a twink man you really are." Esca wraps small hands around Marcus's waist, leaning forward to tease the shell of Marcus's ear with his tongue. 

Marcus swallows heavily and nods, decision made, pushing himself and Esca away from the stool. He wraps a thumb and ring finger loosely around Esca's wrist, tugging him along as he weaves through everyone on the dance floor.

By the time they make it outside, Esca is wrapped snugly around him from behind, mouthing at Marcus's shoulder blades through his t-shirt. Marcus pulls them towards the back of the bar, nearly pitch black from the lack of illumination from the street lights. The second they're bathed in darkness Marcus turns, smiling quickly at the mischievous glint in Esca's eyes. 

Esca's back hits the brick wall, the air rushing out of his lungs with a forced oomph. He winds his arms around Marcus's neck, drawing Marcus down into a kiss. Marcus parts his lips immediately, groaning hard as he winds his hands under Esca's ass.

"Fuck," Esca curses, ripping his lips away from Marcus, hips stuttering. Marcus trails hot, wet kisses down Esca's neck, teeth grazing the underside of Esca's jaw. 

"Esca," Marcus pants, "come on." Esca whines, hands moving to rip at Marcus's tucked in shirt. He trails fire underneath the hem, fingers teasing at the sensitive spot between his belly button and pants and Marcus needs more friction. He pulls hard at Esca's leg, wrapping it around his waist. Marcus rolls his hips hard, driving Esca up the wall and Esca just goes with it, submitting to Marcus's brutal pace.

Marcus grabs Esca's other leg, helping him to wrap his legs completely around Marcus, feet crossed at the ankle. Marcus leans hard into the wall, bracketing Esca with his arms as he grinds deep, denim clad cocks rubbing together mercilessly. 

Marcus is close that it's all he can do to just breathe into Esca's mouth, lips slipsliding over each other. 

"Gonna," Esca warns, muffling his cries in Marcus's shirt as he comes. The power of Esca's orgasm has him digging the heels of his feet hard into Marcus's lower back, the spurs on his cowboy boots poking painfully into Marcus's flesh. But Marcus is so gone, that the pleasurepain sets him off, nearly blacking out as he spurts hard into his jeans.

He comes back into himself at the sound of Esca chuckling quietly and Marcus looks up questioningly. 

"Definitely was not expecting that tonight," Esca says amusingly, pushing the fallen strands of hair off Marcus's forehead.

Marcus can only wholeheartedly agree, and he leans in to kiss Esca once, quickly, "you can say that again."

"So, will I see you here next week?" 

Esca sounds uncharacteristically nervous, and Marcus smiles, "wouldn't you like to know." He can't help but get one last jab in, though they both know the likelihood of him staying away is akin to hell freezing over.

Esca punches him playfully and Marcus laughs, resting his head against Esca's shoulder.

FIN.


End file.
